


we've been missing each other

by thefeelsonthebus



Series: Night Visions [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes Returns, Feels, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefeelsonthebus/pseuds/thefeelsonthebus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he was honest, he wasn’t sure whether he trusted himself.</p><p>Steve did. Steve would trust him.</p><p>Then again, Steve was an idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we've been missing each other

**Author's Note:**

> title from Imagine Dragons - My Fault which is the most horrible stucky song ever tbh

He didn’t really know what to do.

 

He’d spent the last 70 years either frozen or killing someone. He didn’t know how to function without a mission. Without a mission, who was he?

 

Steve had answered that question.

 

 _Steve._ Just the name sent a shiver running down his spine. Not an unpleasant one, either. He wanted to see him again. Without beating the shit out of him. Or any of his friends. They wouldn’t trust him. They’d think he was there to take Steve out. If he was honest, he wasn’t sure whether he trusted himself.

 

Steve did. Steve would trust him.

 

Then again. Steve was an idiot.

 

His ears pricked up at the sound of a noise. Almost subconsciously, his metal arm went to his belt to pull out a gun, but it was only a rabbit, scampering out of its burrow now that the foxes had left. Why did he reach for the guns he used to carry at his belt? He didn’t even have them anymore.

 

Well. Maybe one. Or two.

 

He breathed out heavily, his breath white in the morning air. Why it was so cold in September, he didn’t know. He’d had enough winter for a lifetime.

 

It had been five months since Steve broke through his conditioning and reminded him of who he was. The memories kept coming back in flashes. Nothing massive. No revelations. Just snatches here and there. A smile. The sound of fireworks. A lady in a red dress. Metal clicking against metal as a belt was unfastened. He was surprised to feel emotion at them. Euphoria. Jealousy. _Lust –_ He hadn’t felt emotion in years. Apart from when Steve had…

 

When Steve…

 

He sank to the dewy ground, one cold metal and one trembling flesh hand running through his tangled hair. _God,_ he had to find him. He’d been afraid, he’d been afraid Steve would turn him away. That there wasn’t enough of the person Steve once knew in him, in his shell. But now he knew, no matter what his doubts and fears said in the little, HYDRA-created voice in the back of his twisted mind, he had to go back to Steve.

 

He had to go back home.

 

He had nothing else.

 

Somehow, he’d found himself by the river again, by the river he’d pulled Steve out of. He looked across it. They were still rebuilding whatever the helicarriers had destroyed. He ran his left arm through the water absent-mindedly. Almost a stress reliever. The water was cold. He didn’t notice.

 

Where would Steve be? He’d done research on him, on the Avengers, and he knew they all lived in one building. Howard – Howard’s son had built it.

 

God, he was going to hate him when he found out about Howard.

 

Steve wouldn’t hate him. Steve would forgive him. Even when he didn’t forgive himself. That was what friends did.

 

At least, that’s what he thought they were.

 

He’d scoured through dozens of articles about Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America, The Nation’s Hero. Some had mentioned Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. His best friend since childhood. His loyal second-in-command. His partner. None talked about anything more than that. He wasn’t surprised. The articles seemed disconnected. Not fitting with his memories of Steve. They slotted together with _Captain America_ , not Steve. Still, he was almost disappointed. He wasn’t completely sure how far his feelings for Steve extended, but he knew already that they had _loved_ each other. The memories, the nightmares of Steve coughing in their tiny apartment, of him waking up with him ice-cold in his arms, of him not moving, however much he shook him, told him that. The articles all said they worked together, but none of them said that they would die for each other.

 

He finally stood up. His back ached from three hours of being sat on hard ground, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to wait any longer. He wanted to go home. Not to New York, not even to Brooklyn. Just to Steve. Steve was all he needed.

 

He walked towards the Washington Monument, not having a clue about how he was going to get to Manhattan. Steal a car, maybe. Or a motorbike. He kept his head down, the hair that hung out of the bun at the nape of his neck obscuring his face. His eyes flitted around, looking for enemies, but all he saw was families, fathers swinging their children up into their arms, mothers carrying young babies in, couples walking with their hands joined.

 

He felt a sharp pain in his gut. What would Steve say if he was here with him, and it was 1940? He played that game a lot. It helped him get to know Steve again, if that made sense. _Don’t be like that, Buck,_ he’d say as he saw his face, his longing looks at the families and couples. _You don’t need no dame to be happy. I sure don’t. Not been given much choice._ He’d laugh then, and look up at him, his eyes all bright. And he’d probably feel his heart pound in his chest, and he might say, if he was feeling brave, _I sure don’t need no dame, but there is someone I’m carrying a torch for._ And Steve’s eyes would go all big, and he’d smile some more, and then they’d go back to their apartment and –

 

Oh _shit._

 

He ducked behind an old couple when he saw who was jogging up the sidewalk. The couple glared at him, the old woman trying to hit him with her handbag as they moved away from him, just as the jogger approached him and stopped.

 

He gulped and looked up at him. He looked different without his wings.

 

His face was guarded, but he didn’t step back as he looked at him. “That you?” He said. “Bucky?”

His shoulders tensed up. Why didn’t he call him James? He might just follow Steve’s word, and that included whatever he called him. He couldn’t help thinking that if he followed Steve blindly, he was probably going to end up in a few fights soon enough.

His voice was hoarse and every single one of his muscles were tense. “Yeah. S’me.” A pause. “Mostly.”

He looked disbelieving for a second, staring at the ground, then at the sky. “Jesus Christ,” he said eventually, shaking his head. “You’ve been good at hiding.” He stuck out his hand. “Sam Wilson. We’ve met.”

He shook his hand cautiously. “Not in the best circumstances.”

 

Making jokes around a stranger? He was improving.

 

Sam laughed at that, then the smile melted off his face slowly. “Go on then. Introduce yourself.”

He wasn’t challenging him, he could see that. He was… helping him? He knew how to break every single one of the bones in Sam Wilson’s body, but he didn’t want to just at this minute. He wanted to give him a chance. Second chances were a new concept to the Winter Soldier, but he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore.

 

“Jame – Bucky.” It felt odd, but at the same time, kind of right. “Most… most of him, anyway.”

Sam smiled. “That’s ok. It’s not gonna be the same. It probably never will.” He lowered his voice. “Steve doesn’t care, though. He’s said that.”

Bucky felt another twist in his gut. “Really?”

“Yeah, definitely. I wouldn’t lie to you – Steve would shoot me.”

Bucky tried a smile. It came out more wooden than he intended it. Sam still grinned. Bucky tentatively decided he likes him.

“C’mon, do you want me to get hold of him? Get him here?”

Bucky nodded, his voice catching in his throat. Did he want that? That was all he wanted.

 

Sam was just getting his phone out of his pocket when Bucky’s voice finally came back.

“What will I do?”

Sam looked confused.

“What will happen – happen when… when he comes here? When - get back?”

 

Sam seemed to know what he meant. What would he do without a mission? His last mission was Steve. Not killing him. He had to forget about that. He meant finding Steve. Once he found Steve, he wouldn’t have anything to do. Without a mission, he’d self-destruct.

 

“You could get discharged from service for a while. Or forever, if that’s what you wanted. Nobody can deny you that after everything that’s happened. Or you could go back in. Help whatever’s left of SHIELD. Steve would probably want you to stay in the tower and watch non-stop movies with him – by the way, there’s been dozens more Disney movies, but –“

“What?” Bucky had forgotten what it was like to feel elated. It felt good. “Really?”

Sam laughed. “God, yeah, he’ll love to watch them with you. Tony can make popcorn and clear out the tower, and everything. You can spend some time together.”

 

The way Sam was talking, Bucky suspected Steve had talked to them about whatever their relationship had been in 1945.

 

“Can… Can you phone him?” Bucky whispered, sounding a lot more vulnerable than he meant to. Ah well. He’d been strong for 90 years. He’d lost the energy for it now.

“Sure,” Sam said, clicking a few buttons on his phone and holding it to his ear. Bucky vaguely understood how smartphones work, he’s used them on a mission once or twice, but he was still secretly annoyed there aren’t flying cars yet.

 

“Hey, Steve,” Sam said, winking at Bucky, and Bucky felt warmth in his gut. “You’ll never guess who I’ve run into.”


End file.
